


Random Witchery Drabbles

by Caly_X



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-12-12 04:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caly_X/pseuds/Caly_X
Summary: An open-ended collection of 100-word drabbles. I'll update the tags as I go along. No grand plan.Contents:1. A Close Shave (Dettlaff, Regis)2. An Ordinary Morning (Dettlaff, Syanna)3. "Va faill, luned" (Emhyr, Vilgefortz)4. The Queen of the Night (Queen of the Night, Regis)5. Falka and the Flame (Emhyr, Ciri)6. The Empty Garden (Yennefer, Istredd)7. Out of Place, Out of Time (Ciri)8. Why Dettlaff and Regis Take the Bus (Dettlaff, Regis)9. Mirror Images (Syanna, *someone*)





	1. A Close Shave

Dettlaff felt the razor edge press against his jawline. "Trust me, I'm a barber-surgeon" were the last words he heard. 

"You mesmerized me," he growled when he woke up, immediately recognizing the feeling of lifting fog. He ran his fingers over his face. Clean. Smooth. Not a bit of razor burn. Much better than when he shaved himself.

"My congratulations. You've uncovered the secret to my success," Regis said with a toothy grin, "as both a barber and a surgeon." 

"Why," Dettlaff suddenly thought to look down, "is there shaving cream all over me?"

"...and, ah, as a prankster, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A silly mini-epi-epilogue to "The Keen Edge of Memory."


	2. An Ordinary Morning

"Rhena, darling, I will be home late."

"I'll be here, Dettlaff."

"Alone... be safe."

"Yes. I love you."

"I adore you."

"..."

"...I am so happy you are mine. Yes, I repeat myself. Be safe, my dear."

"You know I do what I need to do to be safe."

"And you know what I would do to anyone who threatened you."

The ghost of a rough-tender caress lingered on her neck as she watched him leave. She waited. She loaded her saddlebags hastily. Yes, I know, she thought to herself, and you know that I do what I need to do.


	3. "Va faill, luned"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels courtesy of _The Lady of the Lake_.

The sorcerer found the black-haired man lamenting in the shipwreck in the middle of the crater.

"I'm surprised at you," stated the sorcerer dryly, a hint of scorn on his handsome face. "You still have a plan. You are a man of action! Don't tell me you let yourself get attached to Pavetta."

The man, startled, stopped wringing his hands. "Can't a man mourn the loss of a good plan?" he retorted just as dryly. "But attached? No."

The sorcerer mutely gestured for the man to follow him. The man stumbled to his feet and muttered quietly, "Not to Pavetta."


	4. The Queen of the Night

"What's this? What's this?!" she had screeched. No, Regis thought, _screeched_ is a word unworthy of her. She _screamed_. No, _yelled_. No, _pleaded_.

"Blood on your shirt. Drunk—again. With those... friends! Please," she had pleaded, "stop this!" No, Regis thought, _pleaded_ is also beneath her. She _commanded_.

"Stop," she had commanded, "or I'll leave you." No, Regis thought, _command_ was not what she had done that night, so very long ago—long enough that the memory was beginning to fade from his mind, with her voice in all its glorious colors being the last to fade. She had wept.


	5. Falka and the Flame

The emperor was left by himself in the ballroom.

_A girl and an elf-girl danced with abandon on a table, leaping like sparks. The musicians played with fear in their eyes._

Tap, tap, tap-tap. The emperor's silhouette glided deftly like the shadow cast by a slowly waving tree bough hanging over the surface of a lake. 

_The girl twirled, kicked, stamped. Bloodlust gleamed in her eyes._

He spun, leaped, struck the gravestone-paved floor with the heel of his shoe. They had paid for playing with fire.

_They would all pay, be they tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor... or even an emperor._


	6. The Empty Garden

“A garden, where you’ll grow flowers,” he said, stroking her hair.

“And an armchair, where you’ll read,” she added, holding his hand.

“A cozy fireplace.”

“A crib…” She fell silent, embarrassed, and let go of his hand.

He continued stroking her hair. “Dear Yenna, whenever you accept my proposal… As I’ve always said… I would be only too happy to take in—”

Yennefer squirmed under his touch. “Istredd, stop.”

Istredd stopped stroking her hair. “You would make a wonderful mother,” he said. “What does it matter who bore the child? He would be ours just as—”

“Istredd, stop.”

He stopped.


	7. Out of Place, Out of Time

"I want to go home," the neighbor child said to Ciri. Yurga's boys had left the two war orphans to play alone.

Ciri had been in Skellige when her parents were claimed by the sea. She was told of their deaths and whisked back to Cintra. She returned to Skellige six months later. By herself. Then it was that she understood her orphanhood.

Now the war had brought her from a burning Cintra to Lower Sodden. She heard that Queen Calanthe had died. 

"I don't," Ciri said.

As long as she never went back, her grandmother would still be alive.


	8. Why Dettlaff and Regis Take the Bus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of modern-era Dettlaff and Regis (from ["The Keen Edge of Memory"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960930)) continue!

The farmer in the field was lucky a medic was nearby.

"He needs to go to the hospital," Regis said, supporting the unconscious man.

Dettlaff pointed to a pickup truck. "Find his keys."

"Can you even...?"

* * *

Bertha heard it before she saw it: a truck tailing her, headlights off at dusk, and speeding, too. She instinctively flipped off the driver before she looked closer at the rearview mirror. What she saw, or, rather, didn't see, caused her to veer into the ditch.

* * *

"Let's not do that again," Regis said as they watched the nine o'clock news.

Dettlaff nodded. "Fun, though."


	9. Mirror Images

She beckoned him into the bedroom and sat down at her dressing table. He hesitated at the sight of the mirror.

"Come up behind me silently," she said, "and put your hands on my shoulders."

The vampire did so. 

She gazed at her solitary reflection and recalled the mornings spent feeling the weight of Dettlaff's hands, feeling his heartbeat against the back of her head. Until the day his invisible presence turned more menacing than comforting...

"Syanna?"

"Hush," she whispered, listening to his blood flowing, trying to remember things exactly as they used to be.

"But you're crying," said Regis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since I finished "In the Hearts of Kings" I've been equal parts horrified and fascinated by the idea of this pairing. Morbid curiosity eventually triumphed and led to the writing of the above. 
> 
> I'm also inordinately fascinated by vampires' lack of reflection in mirrors, apparently. And also Regis and Dettlaff's blood bond.


End file.
